Tension
by TheHeadphoneGirl
Summary: After Sherlock goes to get some body parts from Molly, he notices there is something wrong. Sherlock feels like he should help after all Molly's done for him, but how could he help? Well, he has just the right idea; a massage... Slowburn sherlolly. Please R&R
1. Chapter 1

*emerges slowly from a jungle bush* I have returned! I'm so sorry I've been away for so long, I blame high school... And tumblr. So this idea was rattling around in my head for a while, hope you enjoy!x

TheHeadphoneGirl

Boredom. It ached through every fibre of Sherlock's being, and was unacceptable. Usually there was always something he could be doing, if there wasn't a case he could play his beloved violin, or call John or annoy Mycroft, or experiment. But not today.

He looked at his phone again only to be disappointed again. Nothing. Not a text. A missed call, no one was even attempting to speak with him. Whether it's about a case or something else entirely. When John went away on his sex holiday with Mary, he seemed to take all the criminals with him. Even Mrs Hudson had gone to some sort of convention for lonely old people who liked a certain TV programme, a ridiculous idea, in Sherlock's head anyway. His violin sat across from him, as if mocking him for his inability to play due to...well, sherlock didn't really know what it was but it was occupying too much of his precious mind palace for him to think about it. It wasn't withdrawal, no, no that is a totally different feeling...hmm.

"Well, I can at least try and deal with this, feeling, until Barts opens I suppose" Sherlock spoke softly to himself.

He tried for a while to figure out the feeling, but he got bored of it. It seemed to change quickly and move swiftly from different rooms in his mind palace, but eventually he caught the feel and locked it in a drawer in his smallest room where he kept the rest of his feelings, not even bothering to look at what it was.

He then opened his eyes and looked at the clock. 2 hours. 2 hours until Barts was open and Molly's shift started.

"Thank God for Molly" he thought to himself. She was like an angel that, instead of giving him blessings, gave him body parts.

Sherlock can barely admit it to himself, let alone anyone else, but Molly was probably the person who knew him best outside his family. Yes John does know a large amount of detail about Sherlock's personality, and Lestrade knows his life story better than anyone, due to his criminal record, but sweet little Molly was the person who knew both inside out. She has dealt with his tantrums, his relapses and everything in between. They had known each other for 6 years. Sherlock and seen or heard about every boyfriend, every goldfish, every family visit. At first Sherlock found them unquestionably boring, but bit by bit, Sherlock slowly started to piece together Molly's life. He also started to want to ask questions about Molly, as she asked him. But that would imply caring. Couldn't have anyone knowing he cared about 'The St Barts Morgue Mouse', now could he? Well, not at that point, anyway. Sherlock then decided to piece up a sort of timeline in the Molly Hooper room of his mind palace for a while, surprisingly enjoying it.

He then suddenly opened his eyes to see it was only 15 minutes till Barts opened. He then got up, changed into his white shirt instead of the navy one he was wearing, for no reason at all, and grabbed his infamous coat and ran out the door to get a cab.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the support, this chapter is a little short, but the next one will be longer and things will be picking up. Please leave a comment! Thank you

PS, shout out to Belle Shaye, Deductions-Of-Sherlolly and TheHolmesSister for leaving a review, it is greatly appreciated, enjoy!

TheHeadphoneGirl

When Sherlock arrived at the alabaster building, he could see Molly making her way towards him. Immediately, Sherlock saw something was wrong. Her bag was on her left shoulder, not her right. Her pony tail was leaning so she was either in a rush or couldn't fix it in place properly. Due to the fact she is 4 minutes early as usual, it was probably the latter.

"Good Morning Sherlock" she said brightly. "How can I help?"

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked, sounding impatient.

"Nothing, what makes you think something's wrong?"

"Your bag and hair to be quite frank, Molly."

"Listen Sherlock, I know our taste in clothes isn't exactly the sa-"

"No no," Sherlock interrupted "mean your hair is lopsided and your bag is on the wrong shoulder, what's wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about," she said, making her way to the door, "I just didn't sleep well last night. Anyway, what can I do for you?

Sherlock and Molly carried on as usual that day. She carrying on her normal duties, while Sherlock sat in his stool, looking at slides and occasionally asking for her input. Then, near the end of her shift, Molly packed him 3 fingers and an eyeball to keep him busy and they left, going in opposite directions.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry I haven't updated in such a long time, I'm going to try to start updating as often as possible! Hope you enjoy!

TheHeadphoneGirl

After another 2 days of Molly showing up to work in the same slightly rumpled and unorganised way, Sherlock knew he must investigate. He already knew it was something to do with her sleeping pattern. New apartment perhaps? Or a new boyfriend? Both are doubted for various reasons. After 15 minutes of intense thought, Sherlock realised if would be a lot easier to ask Molly, then he realised breaking into her flat would be even easier considering he tried asking before and she had denied him the information.

Sherlock was used to letting himself into Molly's flat. Since the fall, Sherlock used Molly's flat as a kind of bolt hole until he had to leave the country 6 months in to his 'death'. He was obviously in debt to Molly, however she rarely abused this fact. It was usually for petty things such as him being too lazy to make his own coffee or if she was trying to convince him to eat, not that him not eating is anything to be scoffed at. She however requested that he 'respect her privacy'. This meant in his mind that he wasn't allowed to look through her things, which he never really did. She said absolutely nothing about inspecting her bedroom.

So it was settled. He would go to Molly's flat around an hour before her shift ended have a poke around for a while then make a couple of brews before she came home to soften the blow of Sherlock breaking in to her flat. Again.

When arriving at Molly's flat, Sherlock automatically knew something was wrong. Everything looked...off. The living room was in disarray with books blankets and multiple mugs, mostly with cats on them. Due to the crease in the pillows and the amount of blankets, Sherlock could obviously see someone was sleeping there. Her younger brother? No, he's in Bristol for work at the moment, Molly had mentioned it. A distant cousin maybe? Stupid, most of Molly's family live up north and she definitely would have mentioned it to him.

Perhaps she didn't want him knowing. Molly could be quite deceitful when it came down to it, after all, she did lie to everyone she knew for two years. But why wouldn't Molly want him knowing who was sleeping there? Oh God, it wasn't Meat Dagger, was it? No, no he's in Italy. Ahh, he was getting off track. To the bedroom!

If Sherlock didn't already know where it was, he never would have guessed it was her bedroom. There was no bed. Her wardrobe was in her guest room as the bedroom was rather small, so all she had in her room was her writing desk, a gift from her father when she got her doctorate, and her bookcase. It looked more like a study than a bedroom, with or without the bright yellow and purple designs. The writing desk shouldn't fit into the room, nor should the bookcase. But it worked, in a Molly kind of way.

Sherlock, then seeing that there is no use in looking for problems in sleeping patterns in a bedroom minus the bed. It struck him then that it was Molly sleeping on the couch. He then looked around the rest of the apartment to see if she had moved it into a different room.

When he went into the guest room there was the bed, snuggled in next to the guest room's bed, except both beds were broken. The one Molly had used in her bedrooms mattress was busted, as in springs busting through the covering busted. To be honest this wasn't a huge surprise to Sherlock. When he was using the place as his bolt hole he had told her the mattress needs replacing but Molly told him it was because he was used to his expensive memory foam mattress and pillows. At this point in time Sherlock knew he was on thin ice with Molly, so it would be best just to keep quiet and enjoy her hospitality. When he was there Molly had informed him the the guest room bed was out of use as it was broken underneath at the bridges which held the mattress up. This was still the case.

So this is what was up with his Molly. She had no where to properly sleep, besides that old sofa in her living room! Molly had insisted after the fall that he take the bedroom and she the couch. After half a night Sherlock could see that plan wouldn't work as Molly had been lying down and walking around all night, until 3 in the morning when Sherlock insisted that they were both adults and could share a bed for a while. Eventually Molly agreed, after severe blushing and a cup of coffee. It was a little awkward at first, with Molly curled up as close to the edge as she could get without falling. She did this until Sherlock told her he wasn't diseased and that she was going to fall off the edge. She then eased up a little, especially when she thought he fell asleep. He was in fact still awake, but in his mind palace.

When they woke up it was more awkward as Molly was nestled in the crook of Sherlock's arm with his other arm wrapped around her. That was a little weird, but it became almost normal while Sherlock was staying with her. Almost.

He inspected the bed further to make sure it wasn't fixable. It wasn't. It was now 20 minutes until Molly would be home. Tidying up a bit seemed like a good way to suck up to Molly. He must say, he was fearing the wrath of more and more since he came back. She was gutsy before, which she proved by risking her work, friends, basically her entire life for him. If Sherlock was more of an emotional man, he would have been touched. But as he was Sherlock Holmes, he was grateful and though he would never admit it, a little touched.

He often thought about Molly Hooper. He could never quiet figure her out. She had a full wing in his mind palace. She had several rooms, each one a different version of her. One room would be Pathology Molly, helpful and reassuring. Another is Wedding Molly, bright, happy and a little uncomfortable. And Lab Molly, disappointed, angry and a little violent. There was also Christmas Molly, sad, embarrassed and, well, beautiful.

As he tidied he thought about all of Molly's rooms and the information in each of them. Some contained vital case information, while others contained useless facts about Molly's life. It was a surprise to him that he had not deleted the information that he thought pretty useless such as things like Molly's birthday and favourite colour. He decided he'd clear out these rooms later, a but like Spring Cleaning, he thought briefly.

It was now 7 minutes until Molly came home, so Sherlock decided to stick the kettle on and wait. Now seemed like a good time to get started on cleaning out the Molly Wing, though when he started he realised it may take longer than expected and shut it down for the time being. When the kettle bleeped Sherlock knew Molly would be home at any minute. He then realised that he had no clue what he was going to say to her and planned that out while making to cups of coffee, one in her favourite mug and the other in the one she reserved for only him.


End file.
